A Proposal

Novaretta,

The silence hung between us like a blade pressed to the throat, thick, sharp, and impossible to ignore. I sat frozen in the chair opposite him, the weight of everything that had just passed rendering me speechless.

My mind scrambled for something, anything, to fill the void, but the only thing that came was a hollow laugh and a dismissive wave of my hand.

“Sir, I understand that you might be in shock,” I said, forcing a lightness into my voice that I did not feel. “A werewolf woman like me being your mate, a mighty Lycan? It’s enough to rattle anyone.”

He leaned back in his chair, those unnervingly calm eyes fixed on me. “What made you think that?”

I almost scoffed. “Come on. Look at me.” I gestured vaguely at myself, at the swell of my belly beneath the loose top, at the residual weakness that still clung to my limbs. “A woman with a large belly, a weak wolf, and now being hunted by her own family. Someone like you doesn’t deserve… this. If you want to reject me, let’s do it respectfully. Marriage isn’t something I care about anymore.”

He remained silent for a long moment, simply watching as I rubbed the back of my neck in nervous habit.

He was dangerously gorgeous in the way only pureblood Lycans seemed capable of being, sharp features, an aura of restrained power that made the air itself feel heavier. The idea of him choosing me felt absurd. He must have a screw loose somewhere.

“You seem to be looking down on yourself a lot,” he said at last.

“Looking down on myself?” I echoed. “It’s a fact. Not to mention my husband cheated on me because of—”

“He cheated on you before your appearance changed.” His voice cut through mine cleanly, leaving no room for argument. “A cheater always cheats. Even if his partner were the Moon Goddess herself, it would still be his choice. Not a reflection of her worth.”

I pressed my lips together. There was nothing I could say to that. The truth of it settled uncomfortably in my chest. But he had that information too. My husband cheated on me before I changed. How much did he know about my life?

A mere Lycan could never get inside information about me. If he wasn't someone I could never offend.

“Also,” he continued, almost casually, “I don’t care about any of it. It’s not as though we’re going to have children the moment we get the marriage license.”

I froze. The words took a moment to fully register. “Sir… that’s… let me be clear. I am very comfortable with the life I have right now. Marriage, or whatever arrangement you’re suggesting—I respectfully have to reject—”

“It’s Corvus Stoneheart, my name” he interrupted, his tone even. “And the peaceful life you’re talking about won’t last long.” He watched my face carefully as he spoke. “They will be here soon. Judging by their desperation, you, with a weak wolf and no backup, won’t be able to stand against them.”

My heart sank. He delivered the warning as calmly as if he were discussing the weather, yet every word sent a cold shiver down my spine.

“Novaretta Starwood,” he said, using my full name with deliberate weight. “I will not interrupt your peaceful life, nor will I drag you into any politics. Once the contract is fulfilled, I will reject the mate-bond with full respect and ensure you have a safe place and complete freedom. Until then…” He drummed his fingernails lightly against the table. “You should reconsider my proposal. In the meantime, I will provide you with the best medical facilities available to heal your soul entirely.”

I sat in silence, each of his points landing with quiet, undeniable force. He was right. If my family and former pack had united to find me, there would be nowhere left to hide on this continent. And once they found me, I would have no strength left to fight. Star, my wolf, was still too fragile to face them.

But the question burned at the back of my mind: why would a Lycan of his standing want a contract marriage with a broken werewolf mate?

I opened my mouth to ask, but his phone rang before the words could form. He glanced at me once. “Think about it.”

Then he answered the call right there in front of me, unconcerned by my presence.

“Speak.”

The voice on the other end was cold and distant, but my Alpha hearing caught most of it clearly.

“Your Majesty, Miss Phoebe has been staying in the werewolf continent. Our informants just sent pictures of her at the hospital. She appears to be pregnant.”

His expression darkened at once. The hand resting on the table curled into a tight fist.

So he had a fiancée. The knowledge landed like a stone in my stomach. Why, then, was he proposing a contract marriage to me?

But Phoebe? That name sounded familiar.

“What else?” he asked, his tone flat.

What else? He asked it as though the news barely registered. Wasn’t he upset that his fiancée had betrayed him? And had I truly heard that man address him as *Your Majesty*? Who exactly was Corvus Stoneheart?

“We are waiting for your decision,” the voice continued. “Will you call off the engagement?”

“The engagement never happened in the first place. It's just a deadbeat agreement between two dead elders.” Corvus replied. “Handle it accordingly. Do not disturb me with this matter again.”

“But she is pregnant. Six months along. What if she claims that you are the—”

“Cassian.” The single name carried enough steel to silence the other man. “Are you questioning my integrity?”

A brief pause. “I… my apologies. I will handle it.”

He ended the call and set the phone aside, turning his full attention back to me.

I smirked, leaning forward slightly. “So your fiancée also cheated on you? Seems our spouses share a talent for pathetic choices.”

He regarded me steadily. “Have you decided?”

I straightened in my chair. Truthfully, I hadn’t. His earlier points still held weight, I was too weak to keep running forever. Yet the title 'Your Majesty' and the existence of a pregnant former fiancée painted a picture of complications I had no desire to step into.

“Well,” I said carefully, “the man on the phone called you Your Majesty. That’s enough to send a shiver down my spine. You reek of trouble. What if your pregnant fiancée decides to haunt me for supposedly stealing you away?”

His gaze sharpened with something like mild irritation. “I heard Novaretta Starwood was a woman who talks less and thinks more. You aren’t quite as people describe.”

I scoffed. “Are you judging me now?”

He rose from his chair, his expression colder than ice. “I will return tomorrow. Think carefully. Remember—every minute may cost you your freedom.”

Without another word he walked out of the breakfast room, leaving me alone with the echo of his footsteps and the unsettled silence that followed.

I remained seated, one hand pressed lightly against my chest where the mate-bond throbbed raw and insistent. My body wanted him to stay. Some deeper, wiser instinct warned me to keep my distance.

Yet as I sat there, the truth of his warning settled in with uncomfortable clarity. He was right. Each passing minute was already costing me pieces of the freedom I still clung to.

Yet, sitting there at that moment I didn't realize how much I would regret not saying yes to him right away. Because tomorrow would bring something more dangerous than I anticipated.